


Stagnation.

by m0rkl



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Gen, idk what the fuck this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:13:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9407117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m0rkl/pseuds/m0rkl
Summary: Allen Walker becomes the next Millennium Earl.He remains alone, unfeeling, stagnant.





	

            He knows too much.

 

            He doesn’t know enough.

 

            He will never know enough. He will never know the full story because he does not allow himself to look. If he looks, he will break. He knows this for a fact. If he breaks, then that thing with take over and this whole nightmare will begin again. He allows himself to accept the blank spots as nothing more than that. They are empty spaces and nothing more. He sits alone in the dark, staring out through the window at an unlit sky. If he wishes for moonlight, there is some, but when he doesn’t there is not. This world bends and warps to his command, and yet he confines himself to this room with nothing but the window and his piano. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exist for him. He destroyed it. That’s why he is here.

            He sits at the piano bench, long white hair spilling down his back. Every time he raises gloved fingers over the keys to begin the piece, he stops. He fears if he starts, he will not be able to stop. He cannot allow things to get out of hand. Pushing back his seat, he stands and tugs down the tails of his yellow coat. A whimsical top hat rests of the piano, but he seldom wears it. When he does, his chest tightens and he feels as though he can’t breath. There was once a mirror in this room, but it no longer exists. He can’t bear to look.

            A couch appears at the center of the room. He lies in it, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He does not belong here. He does not belong anywhere. Not as the person he is now. Once, he had a place. He had friends, a place to call home. But like all thing in his life, they slipped through his fingers like sand. Like time.

            He thinks about them sometimes, but only because there is nothing else for him. He thinks of pleasant times as well as painful ones. But it’s alright because in those memories, he is always himself. In those memories, he is not who he is now. All of those moments exist as solid facts. They ground him and tie him to this painful present. He cannot change the past, nor does he want to. Everything that happened is solid and real. It’s what he needs in order to keep himself. If he tries to imagine anything else, it creates doubt and hope in his mind. Imagination is not factual. Uncertainty leads him to panic and fear, two things that he cannot face.

            He is a shell of who he was, but its okay. The boy he used to be was unstable, unpredictable and emotional. None of those features are acceptable to who he is now. If he allows himself the luxury of his own mind, he knows he will slip. He knows that thing will take over. Sometimes, he can feel it. The feeling of floating comes over him and the world feels at a distance. Something wants to enclose him, whispering the sweet promise of release. But he knows better. He pulls himself from the water and stays in this present. Alone. Empty.

            He can’t tell if it hurts or not. He doesn’t remember what anything feels like anymore. But that’s good. If he doesn’t feel, he doesn’t slip. If he doesn’t slip, nothing changes. Nothing moves. Nothing happens. The rest of the world moves in peace around his still, silent room. There is nothing for him but time. Time that doesn’t not work on him. He has everything at his fingertips, and yet he has nothing. He had the ability to do anything, yet he choses to remain here alone. He can twist and mold fate to his own desires, but he does not. He understands that the moment he tastes power, he will resume everything. He will start to feel again, think about them again in ways that he cannot afford.

            As he is now, he could change the entire world with a single finger on the piano. But if he does, it will all begin again. He tells himself that, at least. Because he needs facts, not hope. Hope comes with expectations, doubt, pain, imagination and reasons to change. In order to preserve the peace he has created, he must remain stagnant. He controls all time, yet he must not touch it. He cannot have it.

            The Millennium Earl has always been a sad being. No matter how hard he tries, he always finds himself submerged in tragedy. So now, he stands still letting the world move freely around him. He does not watch. He does not interfere. He does not exist to anyone but himself. For eternity, he remains unmoving, unseeing unfeeling and alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk I told myself I'd write Allen alone and in pain as the Millennium Earl....
> 
> This isn't what I intended but whatever. I don't know what to call it, but I posted it because yeah. It's short. It's late. I'm tired and dead inside.


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